Teatime
by Orphic Wordsmith
Summary: A collection of oneshots, each inspired by a different type/blend of tea that I have tried. From rooibos de provence to jasmine green tea, there are endless possiblities.
1. Chapter 1

**Author note: I do not own the Last Story.**

 **This fanfic/collection of oneshots is inspired by tea. Lots of tea. Too much tea. So this will be a small (or large, depending on how motivated I am to write it) collection of oneshots where each oneshot is inspired by a type or blend of tea that I've tried before.**

 **I hope that you read, review and enjoy! XD Thanks!**

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 _1\. Rooibos de Provence_

Summary: Sir Therius has finally returned to the Empire to train virtuous knights—a task that isn't all that easy, as expected. On a rather cold day after long sessions of training, he decides to warm up a bit with some (rather expensive) tea that Lady Calista sent him.

Characters: Sir Therius

Warning: Post-game, spoilers

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He sipped the tea quietly, thinking of lavender and rosehips as he took a whiff of it from his cup, sitting on his bed in his room.

He would never generally spend his time drinking expensive tea, but it was a parting gift from Lady Calista and it would be rude not to use it.

Also, it was dreadfully cold outside and he needed to warm up, hence the tea.

He had a small room with a private bathroom to himself here at the Empire for lodging while he was training knights during his stay. It didn't feel too odd—Therius felt more at ease in cheaper, smaller rooms than bigger ones. He didn't like going into extravagance, seeing as there was no time to be fooling around during the battles he fought, so he was naturally frugal with the money he spent. Usually if he had tea after a long day of training and such, he would stick with the less expensive sorts, like plain green tea, but again the rooibos de provence tea was a _gift._ Surely it was alright to drink it.

Taking a sip again, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Training the knights was exhausting, but he reassured himself in the beginning that it would be worth it, that there would be true knights like—like General Asthar for example. He was surely a true knight, and Therius knew well that Asthar surpassed him by leaps and bounds when it came to knighthood. Not just in skill, but also through his words and actions and behaviour and everything.

It was so hard to train those knights. Therius had barely an idea of how Asthar managed it so well. The white knight felt like he was having his patience tested, constantly.

First there were some knights-in-training that kept skipping out on practice. He'd hounded them down and reprimanded them for their lack of hard work. Most that were scolded by him quickly listened and joined back into the rest of hte knights well enough, but the few that didn't listen (and even bragged about their _oh-so-amazing skill)_ were quickly cut down by Therius' skill of the sword (though not _actually_ killed because that would be very wrong, even if they were incompetent) and kicked out of training.

On the other hand, there were knights that never missed their training but then would go and use their status of being a knight to do bad things, horrid things. Therius quickly hounded them out and removed them also.

And so the amount of virtuous knights he was hoping to train dwindled. And dwindled even more as time passed on. Some couldn't stand the pressure, some couldn't obey orders, some...

Therius nearly slammed the teacup down, and he immediately hissed, forgetting that the tea was still hot and it stung like hell.

No, nothing could sting worse than General Asthar's death.

He quickly grabbed for a handkerchief, wiping his hand, blowing on it, but he could see the skin reddening already, burning. He winced, before walking quickly to the bathroom and using cold water from the sink, running it over his burnt flesh. He stopped after a few moments, wiping his hand dry. He'd bandage it soon, but first he would clean up the mess he made.

He cleaned up as fast as he could, thinking quickly— _wash it up, get a washcloth, sink...no don't—_

 _Asthar_

 _no—_

 _his dead body lying there I—_

 _stop it—_

 _couldn't save him—_

 _demand you to sto—_

 _I couldn't be there—_

 _SHUT UP!_

He tripped over his own feet, and with a near yell he crumpled to the ground, face first, washcloth in front of him on the floor, the mess of tea still in front of him.

He breathed, looking up, trying to imagine how bad he looked like right now. His hair felt in disarray, his entire being ached with such melancholic pain...

 _Can I still do this? Can I do this? Can I lead people to be good, virtuous knights like General Asthar did?_

 _No, not like Asthar._

 _I can do this. I don't have to be completely like him to do it right._

 _Right?_

 _I...I can follow his example, but imitating him is not the right way._

He stood, slowly, gazing at the mess, before cleaning up.

 _I have to make my own path to get it right._


	2. Chapter 2

_2\. Orange Pekoe_

Summary: In an alternate universe where vampires and non-vampires are warring, Vampire!Zangurak happens to see that Zesha and Zepha (also vampires) have caught Arganan, who knows that Zangurak kidnapped his niece Calista. Zangurak decides to have a bit of fun with his captive via torture and strikes him a deal.

Characters: Vampire!Zangurak, Vampire!Zesha, Vampire!Zepha, Arganan

Warning: Torture, violence, blood

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Zangurak sipped his tea. He frowned.

Orange Pekoe. How dull. He figured he should ask Zesha or Zepha to brew him a different sort of tea next time.

He set his cup down, looking up to see none other than Zepha enter the room, the blue aura flickering about him like candlelight.

"What is it, Zepha?" The vampire lord spoke, making eye contact with him. "It's not common for you to appear before me alone."

Zepha merely flashed a grin. "My lord," He spoke, barely concealed glee in his voice, "My brother and I caught an intruder. Arganan, the human, searching for his niece Calista."

A captured human? Arganan, of all humans?

He could have fun with this.

He stood, facing him. "Really?" Zangurak responded as he felt a small smirk curve into being on his own face. "Where is he now?"

Zepha continued that eerie, beautiful smile of his. "He's in the bathroom with my brother—I believe Zesha has him chained to the bathtub by now. Would you like to see him?"

Zangurak nodded. "Yes."

The two went up the winding, seemingly never-ending staircase until they arrive on the fourth floor of the mansion. A growl came from the bathroom, as well as some scuffling, the clinking of chains echoing from the room. Zangurak eagerly stepped inside, chuckling slightly as he saw his nemesis.

"So," He started, smiling at his captive, "You came here. All alone...how foolish, Arganan."

Arganan glared at him, his eyepatch removed to show his facial scars. He'd been stripped down to nothing but his pants, and even the one boot he had one for his right foot was removed, and Zangurak noticed a large bruise on it. He figured Zesha or Zepha (most likely Zesha, being the sadistic one when it came to torture) must have messed with it somehow.

"Well," The human captive muttered, struggling with the chains, "Not exactly wise, I know. But you took Calista. And I'm going to get her back from you, bastard." He hissed, trying to give him an intimidating glare, but Zangurak knew from the look on his pathetic face that he already failed. Arganan, his entire helpless being splayed out before him, was cuffed by the wrists to the corners of the bathtub, his legs free to squirm about. However, this was a rather deep bathtub, so climbing out would obviously not be easy.

And...

Zangurak reached for the bathtub's faucet, resting his hand on it but not turning it. He looked to Arganan—his foot of _flesh_ was right underneath the faucet—and then smiled, turning it on hot.

Water bubbled and roared as Arganan screamed, and Zepha was heard chuckling in the background. Zangurak couldn't help but smile as he watched the pained expression on the human's face.

"How pathetic," Zangurak sneered,turning off the faucet and then grabbing Arganan's hair, yanking it tightly so that his victim was forced to gaze up at him, "Just truly pathetic. Did you think some old, limbless man like you would be able to rescue your niece?"

Arganan growled, trying to pull out of his reach, but he whimpered as Zangurak pulled his hair even harder, his scarred face contorting into something ugly, something fearful. "I-if you've done anything to her, I swear I'll—" He groaned as Zangurak let go of his hair before backhanding him in the face. The older man coughed, letting his head hang downwards slightly as he gasped for breath, and Zangurak noticed a little blood dribble from his lips.

Arganan's blood...damn, it smelled _good._ Even better than his niece. Zangurak would have bitten him straightaway, but his mind scolded him and told him otherwise. This was his chance. He could easily claim this one for his own, for his property, to feed off whenever he wished.

"I can make a deal," Zangurak spoke, using a finger to collect the blood from Arganan's lip and putting it to his mouth, licking. He grinned slightly—it _did_ taste good—and he looked to Zesha and Zepha, both twins looking rather hungry. No, not hungry— _famished_ was more like it. Though Zangurak suspected that Zesha and Zepha already had a taste of Arganan's blood, noticing that the older man's wrists were chafed, they probably enjoyed the taste of it.

Arganan looked towards him, struggling to regain composure. "Wh-what sort of deal would that be? Selling my soul to the devil? Oh, wait," A dark laugh escaped him, out of mortification, "You're already a devil anyway, damned vampires..."

Zangurak chuckled a bit, grabbing Arganan by the chin and gazing into his good eye. "Actually, you're quite close. You stay in this castle and never leave...and your niece will go free, unscathed. That is the deal that I offer you, and a one-time deal only."

He couldn't help but smile as he pulled away and let go of Arganan to let the older man decide. He was more than rattled enough, rattled enough to steer towards the outcome Zangurak wanted...

"I-I'll do it. I'll stay with you. But let Calista go first!"

Yes. _Perfect._

That was exactly what Zangurak wanted.

He turned in a heartbeat, gesturing to the twins. "Unchain him. Bring him to a guest room and chain him to the bed by an ankle, but make sure the chain is long enough so he can use the ensuite." He commanded. "And..." He chuckled slightly. "Throw his niece out of the castle and let her wander home."

Arganan coughed slightly as the twins removed his cuffs, hoisting him up by the arms. "N-no goodbye...?" He whispered hoarsely. Zesha hesitantly extended a finger to Arganan's bloodied lips, but pulled it away as Arganan tried to bite him. The right-hand man of Zangurak looked up at him.

"Lord Zangurak?" Zesha spoke, his eyes filled with absolute craving. "May we..." He hesitated, before finishing. "May we have a taste?"

Zangurak looked to Arganan, eyes wide in realization, but he smiled. "Yes."

With one fell swoop, both twins tackled down the older man, who screamed as they both bit at him, drinking up the blood that leaked from his being, oozing into their mouths, lapped up with ease. Zangurak laughed, smiling as he watched the spectacle, reminding himself that he would also have a chance later, after Arganan recovered, to feed on him also.

 _Oh, this was just too fun to give up!_


End file.
